


R.I.P. 2 My Youth

by wylanvanecks



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gen, sisfic, spnsisfic, winchester reader
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-26
Updated: 2017-11-26
Packaged: 2019-02-07 05:05:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,186
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12833916
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wylanvanecks/pseuds/wylanvanecks
Summary: You had had a pretty normal life. Your parents weren't awful, though they could get on your nerves sometimes, you played soccer with your best friend, and you had pretty good grades. Then, you come home from soccer practice one day and find out that your normal life was a complete lie.





	R.I.P. 2 My Youth

You hadn't been raised in the hunting life. You had actually grown up rather sheltered from everything, supernatural or otherwise. To say your parents had been strict was an understatement. Except, as it turns out, Trisha and Mark Young hadn't been your parents, not by blood anyway.

By blood, you were a Winchester. That meant that as soon as the various big bads learned of your existence, you and anyone you were close to became targets, including your parents. They might have lived, had they been better prepared for the demons that attacked your childhood home. 

It was a day like any other, one that shouldn't have been memorable. You had walked home after soccer practice, like always, already dreading the mountain of homework you knew you'd have to start the second you got into your house. But, with all the following events, you never did get around to doing your homework. 

The second you swung open the front door, you could tell something was wrong, almost like you could sense the evil standing in your home. A few steps into the little mud room, you kicked off your shoes, ignoring the feeling of foreboding that had slammed into your gut. "Mom, Dad, I'm home!" you called, letting your hair out of its ponytail and shaking it out.

You hummed quietly to yourself, trying to shake off the anxious feeling that you figured was a figment of your imagination. After all, if something bad had happened, wouldn't someone have called the police? And you hadn't seen any police tape or vehicles in front of your house. You dropped your school bag and soccer bag on the couch, your gaze roving over the slightly messy living room. It was the same as you had left it that morning, various papers all over the coffee table and random things scattered here and there, but otherwise pretty clean.

By the time you got to the kitchen, you had almost managed to convince yourself that nothing was wrong. Then, you saw the bodies. One was clearly your father's, sprawled on the ground in a pool of blood with the handle of a kitchen knife protruding from his chest. Another was obviously your mother, slumped over the counter, her head in a pool of blood that was slowly turning her hair red. The third corpse was unfamiliar.

You leaned against the kitchen counter as your stomach emptied itself all over the hardwood floor.  
As you lifted your head up to examine the situation again, panic swooped over you. You crouched down, feeling like you were about to fall over. Before you could go into full freakout mode, you started to try and regulate your breathing to calm yourself. It wasn't working much.

You fell silent as you heard someone hurrying down the stairs, and your heart skipped a beat, raw terror blooming in your chest. Was the murderer still here? Were you next?

Seconds later, your neighbor, Mrs. Greene, stalked into the kitchen, an annoyed look on her face. When she spotted you, however, a victorious smile appeared in her lips. "Little miss Winchester..." she hummed. "So nice to finally meet you."

Winchester? Who the hell did this lady think you were? You couldn't find your voice, so you couldn't tell her that she had the wrong damn person. She stepped closer, and you instinctively stepped back, bumping into one of the chairs at the kitchen table. She smirked. 

"No need to look so afraid," she cooed. "We need you alive, after all."

Before you could wonder too much about the 'we' part, footsteps coming in from the mud room made you look over. Two men had entered your house, the shorter one bearing an odd looking knife, the taller one coming in just behind him, weaponless. 

"Ooh goodie, it's a family reunion!" a new voice drawled. A man stepped in from the living room, just behind the two men. The shorter one didn't hesitate and he whirled around and buried the knife up to its hilt in the man's chest. You let out a startled little scream, your thoughts going (irrationally) to wonder if being a witness to a murder would show up on your record. 

An odd light seemed to flicker through the man as the smirk on his face disappeared and he collapsed to the ground. Mrs. Greene made a disgusted noise. "I can't say I'm sad to see him go," she said with a little shrug. "So, Winchesters, have you come to save the day again?" 

"Well, it's what we do," the shorter man stated, shrugging. He appeared at ease, which confused the hell out of you, considering the current situation. The brunet man started speaking in an unfamiliar language - latin, maybe? - making your neighbor scowl. 

Somehow, she managed to slam both men against the wall, pinning them there as her eyes flashed black. The knife fell from the shorter one's hands, clattering to the floor. Mrs. Greene, or whatever the hell it was, walked closer to the two, speaking in a voice that dropped anger and triumph. 

The brunet looked over at you, his eyes darting from you to the knife. It was clear what he was trying to tell you, and you couldn't. You couldn't murder somebody, even if they did have weird-as-fuck black eyes. You shook your head.

A minute later, though, you realized something. This thing had killed your family. It might kill you, and it most definitely was planning on killing the two men, you had heard it say so. You looked at the blonde thing, and as you realized she was paying no attention to you, started to creep across the room. You stepped lightly, avoiding the creaky spots. 

The next few minutes were a blur, but suddenly the lady with the black eyes was dead, and the man with lighter hair was asking if you were alright. When he didn't get an answer, he frowned, quietly asking again. 

"Why'd she call me Winchester?" you ask as soon as you've found your voice. Sure, it wasn't the most important thing, but it was the first thing that popped in her head, because the thing had called the men Winchester too. The two males exchanged a look, and you knew things were about to change.

Months later, and you were a full-fledged hunter. Part of you had died that day along with your parents and your innocence. Your hands were tainted with the blood of all the things you had killed, and you didn't know if what you were doing was a good thing. 

You wanted to be proud of the fact that you and your brothers saved people, but it was hard not to feel guilty about all the lives you took in the process, even if they were the lives of monsters. Basically, at the end of the day, you couldn't decide if you were a sinner or a saint, and whether you were going to heaven or hell, but you knew it didn't matter. What mattered was that no matter how you went out, it'd be with a bang.

**Author's Note:**

> so, I wrote this ages ago for a writing challenge on Tumblr. now that I'm rereading it, it's making me want to extend it into a full story...and maybe I will, once I finish everything else I've got going on lol. anyway, I hope you enjoyed!!


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